


I Won’t Tell 'Em Your Name

by maroonarry



Category: Clone High
Genre: Author is bad at tags, Eventual songfic, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Joan Needs A Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, i tried/am trying, perhaps ooc, some humor was attempted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maroonarry/pseuds/maroonarry
Summary: After chaos ensues with her best friend Abe, Joan confides in the only person in her small circle of friends and acquaintances she feels is left, leaving her drenched in the cold rain on JFK’s doorstep.The pair form an unlikely friendship and bond over loneliness and vulnerability. JFK tries to prove to Joan that she’s worthy of a person who’ll reciprocate her endearment and devotion and treat her right. Somewhere along the way he realizes he might think of her as more than just a friend, and hopes that he can be that person for her.
Relationships: JFK & Joan of Arc (Clone High), JFK/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	I Won’t Tell 'Em Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> (chapter title inspired by the song shadowboxer by fiona apple)
> 
> this will be updated whenever i get around to it and no i don’t have a super specific ending in mind other than endgame joanfk, bear with me here please
> 
> also this is my first ever published fic but i’ve always enjoyed writing (even though grammar isn’t exactly my strong suit) so maybe someone will enjoy reading it :)

It was a rainy Friday night in October. The weather outside was still warm somehow, but the wind brought the long anticipated fall chill, along with rain. JFK wasn’t looking forward to all the dead leaves turning mushy by morning and hoped the temperature would drop soon and bring snow in time for Snowflake Day. 

Although it was a Friday night, JFK would be spending his time inside sheltered from the rain with his two dads rather than partying like he usually did. Wally and Carl insisted on catching up on Will & Grace just as they did last weekend, so he had some time to himself. JFK figured he’d stay in his room and listen to his favorite records to set himself up for a relaxing weekend. He had already ordered a pizza for himself and was now waiting for it to be delivered. In the meantime, he’d search his disheveled room for his wallet, making a mental note to tidy up tomorrow, or his two dads would probably have his head. 

JFK’s search was interrupted by three abrupt knocks on his front door, just as he pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his pants he wore to school earlier. It was only then that JFK realized it might not have been the best idea to have the pizza guy deliver on a Friday night in the rain, but he appreciated the speedy delivery and would make sure to leave an extra generous tip. 

He approached the door, clad in a black t-shirt, a pair of plaid pajama pants, and thick, wool socks to keep his feet warm at night. And yes, JFK wears socks to bed so his feet don’t get cold from the winter chill that often lingered in his house, even when the heat was turned on. 

He opened the door swiftly, wallet in hand, only to see none other than Joan of Arc on his doorstep. She couldn’t be the pizza delivery guy, could she? No, she wasn’t holding any pizza. Joan didn’t even work at the town’s local pizzeria, yet here she was on his doorstep in the pouring rain, Just like she was a couple months ago, when she came to help JFK with his campaign for student body president. Her eyes looked red and puffy, and her makeup was running. Was she crying?

After a couple solid seconds, JFK finally managed to speak. “Joan?” he muttered, obviously confused as to why Joan was soaking wet on his doorstep at this hour. This hour, being.... 9pm? Nearly 10. he really should have ordered a pizza sooner. 

Her frail voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Can I come inside? It’s kind of... raining.” she spoke, her arms tightly wrapped around her torso, struggling to keep warm. JFK silently backed away from the door and Joan stepped inside, dripping wet and shivering, then toed her boots off to leave at the door.

“Are you uh, okay?” 

Joan looked up at him, silently, her mascara cascading down her cheeks and her hair dripping. 

“I’ll uh, grab you a towel or two.” 

Roughly a minute later, JFK arrived and draped a towel over Joan’s shoulders. She wrapped it around herself tightly and shut her eyes for a second. A couple more tears spilled out and her dripping makeup stung her eyes, but she didn’t want to wipe it off with JFK’s towel, worried that it’d leave a stain.

“Do you uh, want to take a shower? Might feel better after ya freshen up a bit.” JFK spoke softly, scared that any slight sound could startle her. He wondered why she came here in the first place. Joan hadn’t been to his house since the beginning of the year when she helped him campaign against Abe, but he figured now wasn’t the best time to ask her about her sudden appearance. 

He took a couple steps to lead the way to his room, even though he knew she had been around his house before, and stopped when he heard a small voice utter his name. 

“JFK...” 

And he felt his heart melt and shatter all at once. 

“Yeah, Joanie?” he said, the nickname slipping out of his mouth. 

“I didn’t bring any clothes to change into.” 

Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t like there was absolutely nothing for her to wear, and he couldn’t just let her sit around soaked in her clothes that she walked in the rain to get here in, so he offered what he could. 

“Don’t worry, you can just, uh, borrow some of mine.” He felt his cheeks immediately grow warm as the words left his mouth. Joan only nodded in response.

The two walked through his room and to his bathroom, where he showed her how to work the knobs to turn to control the water, then JFK left to gather some clothes for her to wear. He heard the water turn on and opened his dresser drawer, then pulled out a charcoal sweater he last wore to a chilly evening at Caesar’s for a bonfire. It was soft and warm, hopefully it’d be enough to ward off the chill that the rain had brought. He then pulled out an older pair of gray sweat pants. JFK knew Joan wasn’t short, but he didn’t want to give her pants that she’d be swimming in. He’d retired these ones a year or two ago when he realized they were too short on him. Lastly, he grabbed a pair of wool socks. 

JFK took account of how messy his room was. He was somewhat embarrassed that Joan had seen dirty clothes covering most of the floor. Old homework papers skewed on top of the thin layer of dirty laundry, along with a few shoes scattered here and there. He frantically picked up the shoes and tossed them into his closet. After gathering up the paper and placing it in a stack on his desk, he tackled the layer of clothes on the floor, which turned into a heap in his laundry basket. Some shirts and socks spilled out from the basket, but at least it was all in one spot now. 

“JFK?” Joan called from the bathroom, water no longer running.

“Yeah, Joanie?”

“Could you bring me those clothes?” 

“Sure thing, one second.” JFK shouted. He hurriedly grabbed the stack of clothes and made his way over to the door. “They’re right here on the floor,”

He walked over to his desk and looked at the stack of old papers, junk mail from various colleges around the country, and other garbage. Throwing some of the college letters away would be a good start to cleaning up the bulk of the mess covering his desktop, considering he had his heart set on Clone State like most of his classmates. So he began going through the pile, chucking away letters from Kentucky, Minnesota, New York, among several others.. 

The bathroom door creaked open behind him, grabbing JFK’s attention and reminding him that he was waiting for Joan to get dressed. He dropped the last couple letters on his desk and spun around to see Joan standing in front of the bathroom door. She took a couple steps closer to him.

“Thank you for this, Kennedy, it means a lot.” she smiled softly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he blushed. She looked around the room shyly, glancing in every possible direction besides his face. “If you don’t mind me asking, Joanie, what’re ya doin’ out so late at night?” he asked softly.

“Oh,” she stared down at the carpet. “it’s… I just…” she muttered, struggling to find the words she wanted to say.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. Don’t, uh, feel like I’m forcing ya to,” JFK offered, not wanting to pressure her. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s just… kind of embarrassing is all.” she finally looked up, reluctantly making eye contact. “Abe is just… he’s been so insensitive lately, it’s like he doesn’t even want to talk to me anymore. I feel so stupid for chasing after him all this time,” she sighed. His heart felt like it shattered all over again. “I just wish he made more of an effort to try and talk to me I guess.” her voice shook. “All he ever talks about is Cleo and it feels like a punch in the face. It just makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong because he wants her and not me,” she sniffled. It pained him to see her hurting like this, especially over Lincoln. “I care so much about him and he just makes me feel like shit in return, and I’m so tired of it.” the tears came streaming down her face again. “Why does he treat me like this? Why?” she yelled, stomping, the sound muffled by the loose sock clad on her foot meeting the carpeted floor.

“Joanie-“ 

“He makes me feel like I deserve it.” her voice broke, cracking at the strain of raising it again. “Do I deserve it, JFK? Do I deserve to be miserable?” she yelled, like she was begging him to answer. 

“No, no, Joan,” she threw her arms around his torso and he held her close. “you don’t deserve it.” he combed through her hair, still damp. “Lincoln’s just too big of an asshole to give a shit about how other people feel. He’s wrong for making you feel that way. You deserve way better than him, someone who’ll treat you like you hung the moon and the stars in their sky.” She looked up at him through tears, feeling a little bit better from JFK’s kind words. She’d never heard him this vulnerable before. She always liked to think he had it in him somewhere, even if she didn’t know him extremely well. “You deserve so much better, Joanie.” 

“I don’t know what to do, JFK. He’s supposed to be my best friend,” he still held her tightly but freed an arm to wipe some tears off her cheek with his thumb as she looked up at him, eyes soft and glassy. 

“I know it’s hard,” he said, “but I want you to know that anyone would be lucky to have you.” He hoped she’d know that he was being genuine and honest. 

“It just makes me feel dumb,” she said, resting her head on his chest again. He soothed her, petting her mop of red hair momentarily before taking her shoulders and having her face him. 

“Well you’re not dumb, Joanie. You’re one of the smartest gals I know.” he wiped another tear away with his thumb. 

“Really?” she spoke with some hope in her voice. 

“Really.” he smiled back, placing a kiss atop her head. Her arms wrapped around him once more. They fit around him so snug, like they were two puzzle pieces. It made him feel whole. 

“Thank you, JFK,” she muttered into the fabric of his shirt, a couple teardrops soaking into it. He smelled of cologne and laundry detergent. It was a homey smell that soothed her and made her feel cared for. She hoped the smell would still linger even when they pulled away from each other.

“No need to thank me, really, Joanie.” 

“But I want to,” she pleaded, “you could have shut your door in my face, but you didn’t. And I owe you one.” she smiled, but she still looked hurt and broken. JFK knew he couldn’t fix all of her problems for her, but the least he could was be there for her.

“Well,” JFK sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I ordered a pizza a while ago but, uh, I dunno when it’s gonna get here. Just, if you’re hungry...” He looked over at the clock on his nightstand. 10:16pm. “We can eat in here, if you want, just let me get some, er, plates and stuff. Make yourself at home.” He flashed a quick gentle smile before padding out of the room. 

Joan looked around and took in JFK’s room. It was cozy and personal, decorated with trophies and pictures of him at sports events, wearing medals, and some with his best friend Ponce. There was a record player and a small stack of vinyl, a hamper for dirty clothes that nearly overflowed onto the floor, a mirror with a picture of him and his two dad’s stuck in its wooden frame, and a small tv. The covers of his bed were wadded up and twisted in spots like he woke up every morning and never bothered to make it, but it looked warm and welcoming. JFK’s room was by no means tidy, but had a homey feeling to it, much like his smell. It was lived-in and comfortable. She already felt somewhat at home, despite only being at JFK’s house a handful of times before. She sat down on one side of the bed in front of one of the pillows and examined the small picture frame sitting next to the digital clock on his nightstand. The picture was of JFK and Ponce after a football game, JFK’s helmet sitting at his feet and his hair all messy. He was sweating hard, and she could tell that they probably won that game by the look of pride on both of their faces. JFK’s jersey was roughed up and muddy in spots from him being tackled, and Ponce looked oddly pristine, as he always did, in his leather jacket with his hair gelled up. They had their arms around each other, and they looked happy. Two real best friends, Joan thought. She couldn’t remember the last time Abe wanted to take a picture with her, or even the last time he asked to hang out with her. He was always talking Cleo, who wasn’t even single. Her eyes grew watery and she wiped away the tears brimming in her eyes when she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. JFK walked in the room, box of pizza, plates, and drinks in hand, still with a gentle smile. She quickly took her hands away from her face and tried to act like she was doing something to distract from the fact that she was just crying again, but he could probably tell anyway.

“Sorry that took a bit long, uh, the pizza guy came.” 

“It’s okay, I-“ 

“You can uh, turn on the TV and pick something to watch, you don’t have to just sit here.” JFK placed the pizza box at the foot of the bed and and drinks on his dresser and gave Joan the remote. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything but sit and stare at all of the different buttons on the remote. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” he muttered before padding out of the room once more.

JFK didn’t have to go to the bathroom, or do anything important for that matter, really. He closed the door behind him and leaned onto the counter supporting himself with his hands, staring at his reflection. “Pull yourself together, Kennedy. Don’t clam up on ‘er.” He found himself oddly nervous suddenly, and didn’t know what was happening to him. He was usually able to keep his composure around girls, but with Joan he felt different. Sure, they were friends, but they never actively hung out together outside of school. They sat near each other in history and would occasionally work on homework with each other and often chatted, but she usually seemed reluctant and apprehensive when talking about her personal life. He’d always found Joan attractive, she had to know that by the comments he sometimes made to her when he saw her around school or at the Grassy Knoll, but he was never this tense around any girl. His confidence and charisma seemed to dwindle and he felt himself growing warm and slightly sweaty. He just wanted to be there for her, but he’d also never really been there for a girl like this before. He and Cleo hardly spent any actual time with each other outside of school, and he felt as nothing more than a trophy-boyfriend to her. He turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face for a couple seconds before drying off and opening the door to set foot back in his room. 

Joan was still sitting in his bed, now surfing through different channels in search of any show or movie to rid of the inevitable, dull silence that fell between the two of them. She looked so small and frail sitting alone on his bed in the dim lighting of his room. Joan had already flipped through most of the channels and couldn’t find much, and settled on the reruns of Daria that were airing on MTV hoping JFK wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t her favorite show, but she often put it on when she was alone, just for the comfort of having something playing while she did homework or cleaned her portion of the mess in the room she shared with Cleo. 

JFK plopped onto the other side of the bed and grabbed the pizza, taking a plate for himself and handing the other to Joan. 

“I, uh, hope you like cheese,” he chuckled, opening the pizza box and grabbing two slices for himself. 

“Cheese is actually perfect,” she said, taking a slice from the box and shutting it, “thank you.” 

“No problem, Joanie.” he said, taking a bite of pizza and leaning back against his headboard. 

Joan wasn’t too terribly hungry, as thinking about Abe lately made her upset enough to lose her appetite, but she nibbled away at the pizza slice in case JFK asked her why she wasn’t eating. She managed to get halfway through her slice and thought to herself that she would finish it. She felt a little better now that she felt more comfortable and had someone to talk to. 

It had now been a couple minutes since either of them had spoken. Joan hoped she wasn’t intruding on any of JFK’s plans by showing up without any notice. For all she knew, he could have arranged to meet with some girl tonight or had other plans to hang out with Ponce, but now he was stuck here taking care of her. She tried to push away the thought. 

“So,” she started, “how have things been since you broke up with cleo?” 

“Actually, uh, Cleo left me.” The lighthearted tone in his voice from earlier now dwindled. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” she muttered, putting her pizza down. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring up Cleo, but there wasn’t much to talk about to begin with. 

“No, no, it’s uh, it’s okay. It was for the better anyway. I don’t need to, er, explain it, you already know how she is.” he muttered, taking a bite of pizza and chewing it slowly, eyes locked on the TV. 

“Yeah, she’s a real pain in the ass.” JFK chuckled at her words. Joan didn’t even want to think about how she’d have to go home to Cleo in the morning and deal with her pestering her to find out where she had been all night, and Joan certainly couldn’t tell her where she went. 

“You got that right. Wouldn’t even call her much of a girlfriend, really. She, uh, only ever really wanted to go out to eat or have sex. And when she wasn’t with me, she was, er, with messin’ with other guys.” He grabbed another slice of pizza. “I’m one to talk, I guess. I don’t, uh, have the best reputation regarding loyalty, either. I know I’m known as a bit of a horn-dog.”

“That may be true, but at least you’re not a massive bitch.” Joan spat, causing jfk to let out a belly laugh. “What? You know it’s true,” she chuckled. His gaze finally broke away from the TV. 

“No, I know. Just didn’t know you, er, had such a mouth on ya is all.” he said, still grinning.

///

They spent the next hour like that on JFK’s bed, eating pizza and talking about Cleo and laughing. 

“Don’t even get me started on Abe,” she snickered, “he’s an awful friend, when I really think about it. He either tries to fix you like you’re the problem or he just ignores you completely, no matter how many calls or texts you leave him. I don’t even know why I’ve been friends with him for so long.” she sighed. 

“Hey,” he nudged her shoulder with his fist, “screw Lincoln, you don’t need that bozo anyway. He’s nothin’ but a walking pair of sideburns. A real piece of work.” 

She smiled. one of the first genuine smiles all night. He didn’t see her smile often. It was a rare sight, and JFK liked knowing he was able to make her smile, and show her real laugh. He adored the sound and the way her face would scrunch up, how her eyes would water when she laughed too hard and how she would occasionally snort. He loved knowing he was able to make her happy. 

“Maybe they’re, uh, perfect for each other,” he added, “two real jackasses.” 

“One and the same.” Joan yawned. 

“Are ya gettin’, uh, tired?” he asked her. It was after midnight now, and JFK could only expect her to be exhausted after the rough time she had at the start of the night.

“Only a little,” she muttered, bluffing. He wanted her to rest. 

“I’ll let you sleep if you want,” he started, “you can have my bed. It’s, er, a lot better than the couch downstairs but I don’t mind sleepin’ on down there.” He got up and grabbed a pillow from his bed, then walked around it to the side Joan was sat at. “I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything.” he said, carefully eyeing her one last time before he left the room. 

She looked drained, and like she had something to say. “C’mere,” he said, then set the pillow down on the bed and opened his arms wide for a hug. She met his gaze then rose from where she sat on his bed to so he could wrap his arms around her smaller frame. Her hands rested on his back. He was muscular, yet soft and warm. He rested his chin on top of her head and rubbed her back gently. His hugs were so soothing, Joan felt like she could fall asleep standing up just like this. “Now, what’s buggin’ ya? I can tell somethin’s up. Don’t want you worryin’ that pretty little head of yours.” 

A smile crept onto her face once more. Pretty. She shivered. She couldn’t tell if it was just him being typical, flirty JFK or if there was more to what he was saying to her. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

He broke away from the hug to look into her eyes. “You’re, uh, sure?” he asked. She nodded. He had nothing against sleeping on the couch, and he especially didn’t want her to think he was going to take advantage of her somehow. “Only if you’re positive.”

He flashed her a tender smile before grabbing his pillow and walking back to the other side of the bed. He crawled under the covers, as did Joan, turned off the TV and pulled the chain of his lamp to turn the light off.

She laid on her side facing away from him and thought about the peace she felt whenever he held her. “JFK?” she mumbled, immediately hearing him shift under the covers. 

“Yeah, Joanie?” 

“Could you... hold me?” she felt her cheeks grow warm. 

“Sure,” He hesitantly scooted up to her backside and draped an arm over her torso. It wasn’t often that JFK cuddled anyone. Not after hookups, and not even with Cleo when they were together. Being that this kind of affection was somewhat foreign territory for him and he didn’t want to make Joan uncomfortable, he was unusually tense and felt out of his element, even more so than before. Joan rested a hand over his and held it firmly to her chest and felt him relax against her. “Joan?” 

“Hmm?” she hummed in response.

“You can uh, call me Jack, if you want. I don’t mind.” 

“Okay,” she grinned to herself. “goodnight, Jack.” 

“G’night, Joanie.”

**Author's Note:**

> this could turn into a slow burn at some point honestly who knows, this could also end up being pretty lengthy bc i didn't even realize this was as long as it was until i actually checked oops


End file.
